


So Clear But So Unheard

by oliviathecf



Category: DCU, DCU (Comics), The Flash (Comics), The Flash - All Media Types
Genre: Blow Jobs, Dubious Consent, Guilt, Humiliation, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Public Blow Jobs, Public Sex, Riding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-31
Updated: 2018-01-31
Packaged: 2019-03-11 23:34:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13534917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oliviathecf/pseuds/oliviathecf
Summary: Maybe he did want this.





	So Clear But So Unheard

**Author's Note:**

> This is based off of Flash #36 from Rebirth, something which I started during that. Of course, it's not really canon compliant anymore. Not that it was every going to be, but the idea of Flash confronting Cold in front of his obnoxious ice throne never happened like I wanted it to. So, if you don't read comics, you can still enjoy this.
> 
> This also has nothing to do with my last Coldflash fic, as both are a sort of first time deal. This one is a bit longer and with a lot more consent issues. I like both of them though!
> 
> Title is from Lazy Eye by Silversun Pickups.
> 
> Enjoy!

It probably shouldn’t have surprised him that Cold had a throne. After all, he was running around and calling himself the king of crime in Central City. 

Yet, Barry couldn’t keep his eyes from widening as he took in the sight before him. Mardon and Rory forced him to his knees before the ice throne, hands hard on his shoulders as the pushed him down. Barry winced when his knees hit the icy floor and he swallowed thickly. When he had asked for a meeting with Snart after he had left him in that cell, the Golden Glider had purred something about an audience with the king. 

He had assumed that she was joking.

Barry looked up at Cold, who was splayed over his throne, leg thrown over one of the frozen arms of it. The Cold Gun dangled loosely from his fingers, the other hand gripping a glass of bourbon just on the wrong side of too tight. Like he was looking for any excuse to smash the crystal rocks glass and, from the scowl on his face, he was looking to throw it right at Barry’s face. An out of place voice in the back of his mind, far too light for the situation, murmured that the only thing Snart was missing was a crown. He knew he should keep his mouth shut but the comment bubbled up his throat until he couldn’t hold it back, impulse winning over his control.

“Where’s your crown?”

Cold smirked at him, dropping the glass from his fingers. It broke on the hard ice, thick crystal separating into three pieces instead of shattering. Barry couldn’t help but wince regardless, eyes leaving Snart to watch the bourbon splash up. Brown liquid hit the side of the throne and the side of Cold’s boots, and Barry briefly wondered if someone was going to clean it up. None of the rogues moved from their spots, watching the scene before them.

He had seen Snart and his team drop everything to save the world so, as he watched the stolen, broken crystal finally settle on the ice, Barry realized that watching his Rogues return to their villainous ways stung. Every time he thought that he had finally won them over, they seemed to take five steps back and it made him _angry_ every time he had to put them back into Iron Heights. His jaw set, teeth grit together as he took in all the stolen goods before his eyes moved back up to Snart’s face. 

The beard was new and surprisingly trim for a man who was supposed to be in jail. Then again, he wasn’t really in jail anyway, he was below Iron Heights in his own miniature kingdom. The theatrics of it all would be surprising to any other hero Barry knew but it was all too familiar for him. 

He had never been on his knees before a throne made of ice, watching bourbon drip down the white leather on Cold’s boots though.

“You shoulda let us go, Flash. We woulda been out of your hair and you coulda just had to deal with huge gorillas.” Cold said, voice carrying so the other Rogues could hear as well.

They murmured in their agreement and, for a second, Barry almost wished he had let them all go. It was against everything he stood for of course but he wouldn’t be on his knees as Captain Cold leered at him. 

The realization that Snart was, indeed, leering at him made his stomach drop. Those eyes behind goggles were looking at him with hatred but there was something else there, something that made him fight against the hold that Mardon and Rory still had on him. With iron grips on his shoulders, they pushed him down further until he was on his hands and knees before Cold. Somewhere distant, behind him and the roaring in his ears, he heard chuckling and his face burned.

Because he knew what it meant. What Snart wanted him to do in front of all of his Rogues. The spread of his legs, the smirk on his face that was more lecherous than anything, and Barry wondered how he hadn’t seen it before. This wasn’t an execution or a meeting, it was revenge in the form of an exhibition show. 

He swallowed thickly, a lump getting caught in his throat. If he looked close enough, he could see a sizable bulge at the front of Snart’s blue pants and he knew just how planned this was. The hands on his shoulders were hot even through his suit, red hot iron burning through him and he almost vibrated through their hold and ran out.

Almost.

His throat went dry and he tried to swallow again, tried to open his mouth and say anything as Cold began to talk about revenge and humiliation and other things that hardly passed through the roaring in his ears. Barry wasn’t like this, not at all, but something about the way Snart was looking at him made him shiver, and not just from the cold. 

He barely registered it as Mardon and Rory pulled him up by the shoulders and shoved him forward until he was climbing onto the steps and being forced to kneel between Snart’s spread thighs. Barry stared up at him because it was the only thing he could really do, look up into those eyes filled with naked emotion, lust and anger and his own shortcomings, and Barry couldn’t help but feel the same way. 

Even the lust. God forgive him, there was a part of him that _wanted_ this. He wondered what the other members of the League would say if they saw him like this, tongue flicking out to run over his bottom lip, eyes wide and hot on the bulge in front of him. His hands shook and he belatedly realized, right as Snart’s hand cupped his jaw, that Mardon and Rory had let him go. He could run away and keep running, away from the Rogues and from Central City. Instead, the stayed rooted to the icy floor, under the leering of the Rogues and from Cold’s gloved hand on his bare skin. That hand, tightly gripping and surprisingly warm even through his glove, tilted his chin up. 

Barry knew that it wasn’t good that Captain Cold was running hot. 

His throat went dry when Cold’s free hand worked at his belt, metal jingling against metal. This was too real, too much, and Barry felt himself vibrating because he couldn’t help himself. He wanted to run away, he should have run away, but instead he watched Snart pull his cock out through his fly. Barry’s eyes seemed to be vibrating as well, although he couldn’t say if they were or if it was just the heat that was making him see double.

It was the silence of the Rogues behind him that made it feel like it was actually happening, not just a bad parody of his life. Instead, everything and everyone was silent as Snart cupped the back of his head and dragged his face forward. He was already hard, pressing up against Barry’s parted but unopened lips, flushed head against his rosy, teeth-bruised mouth.

He didn’t know why, maybe his mind was on automatic or maybe because he wanted this, but Barry opened his mouth and let Cold push into his mouth. The flesh of his dick was soft, like silk against his tongue, and he tasted of salt sweat and musky flesh. In the back of his mind, as Snart pushed him forward to take a bit more, he thought it wasn’t too bad. Barry even bobbed his head down on his own accord, it had felt like the right thing to do at the time and Cold moaned in appreciation.

Maybe he deserved this. Retribution, an ugly word for defeat in the non-traditional sense of the word. He had won, had stopped the bad guys, but at what cost? Certainly more than just Snart thrusting until his cock hit the back of his throat, Barry having to fight to prevent himself from gagging. If he relaxed his muscles, let them move to accommodate Snart, it wasn’t so bad.

He expected Snart to finish down his throat or even on his face, marking him or making him taste his cum. Instead, he found himself being pushed back by a rough hand. A string of saliva connected his mouth to Snart’s dick and he coughed, gasping for breath. Barry’s tongue broke the strand, licking the taste of him off of his lips, swiping at a droplet of hot pre-cum that dribbled on his bottom lip. 

Barry let himself be manhandled up, surprised as Cold dragged him forward to press their lips together. Blowing Captain Cold, getting fucked by him, those were things he could deal with. Getting kissed by him though, tongue sliding into his mouth, that was something he never expected to happen. It was a brief kiss, a rough press of lips against lips and tongue against tongue, Snart pulling back with his bottom lip between teeth. 

Gloved hands tugged the bottom of his uniform down until the waistband met the very top of his thighs, exposing just his bare ass. Barry’s cock was still inside, half hard and straining at the crotch, and he felt thankful that the Rogues were still silent behind his back. The only reason he still knew they were there was their reflection in the throne of ice. Barry was used to looking in all forms of reflective surfaces for the Mirror Master after all, but he wasn’t ready to see his own desperate face staring back at him, cheeks flushed and eyes too dark to pretend that he wasn’t anticipating whatever Snart was going to give to him. That he didn’t know exactly what was coming.

Snart tugged him up to straddled his lap, trembling thighs spread wide by the legs between them. Slicked, gloved fingers pressed into him, two at once. He gasped out loud, arching his back slightly, looking at Snart’s all too satisfied face. Barry’s hands hesitated before landing on fur covered shoulders.

Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he realized that he had never touched the soft-looking fur on his costume, and Barry wondered what it felt like without his gloves on. He thought about taking his gloves off but decided that it would be too far, making him look even weaker to all of his villains. It was better to keep up the semblance that he didn’t want this, that he was being forced into it.

He was being forced into it, he told himself. A scolding voice in his mind, telling him that he couldn’t want this, as a hand on his waist pushed him down until the tip of Snart’s cock was pressed up against his hole. Cold sweat broke out over his back and he wondered when Snart had taken his fingers out of him as the head pushed in after initial resistance. 

Barry felt every inch of Snart pressing inside of him, and one thought persisted through every other racing thought. That it felt good, that he was pushing down without Snart needing to do it for him. Behind him, the Rogues all murmured in appreciation as he took every inch and started moving in an instant. Snart growled, leaning forward to bite his shoulder through his costume, and Barry panted hard, throwing his head back to give Snart more access.

It was rare when anyone could go at Barry’s pace, when it actually felt good and wasn’t just a tease. Snart couldn’t quite match it but he went hard enough to have Barry moaning in a way that he knew would embarrass him when the fog cleared. For now, though, he bounced in Snart’s lap and let himself feel what was happening without any emotion or thoughts about the future.

It couldn’t last, not from the way they were both moving, clawing and snarling at each other. It was rough but it was what they both seemed to need. Behind them, the abandoned Rogues murmured. Barry caught what they were saying, something about it looking like it hurt more than it helped and he wondered if they were right. Not in a physical sense, he would bounce back right away, but if this was going to open a door that neither of them wanted to open. A dependence on one another for something that he couldn’t let happen again.

A hand reached in to the bottom of his costume, pulling his cock out and stroking him in time with the rough thrusts. Cold came first, slamming inside of him and snarling curse words until he shot inside of him. Barry followed, spurting hot cum over Snart’s gloved fist. In the back of his mind, he realized that he would have to take the glove when he ran off, evidence that he couldn’t leave behind. But he let himself sag against Snart’s chest, the both of them breathing together.

He was going to run off of course. But, breathing in the scent of Snart, he let himself take a moment before he ran off to collect himself and come back to beat the Rogues yet again.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed! Feel free to leave some love (or hate) either here or at my tumblr:
> 
> [ Fic Blog. ](http://fanfictionolivia.tumblr.com/)


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